


Breakfast in bed

by Baryshnikov



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Asexual Tom, Chocolate, Food & Sex, Food Porn, Hand Feeding, Hand Jobs, M/M, Strawberries, rich people
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-01
Updated: 2018-09-01
Packaged: 2019-07-05 14:36:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15865596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Baryshnikov/pseuds/Baryshnikov
Summary: Tom would like Abraxas for once, just once, to eat like a normal human being





	Breakfast in bed

**Author's Note:**

> I thought long and hard after finding this unfinished on my laptop, but I finished it (for better or worse) and here it is.

Waking up in Abraxas’ bed was nothing new. Tom was his current favourite, his new toy to play with until it was broken and boring, not that Tom was planning on that happening to him anytime soon. So, Tom indulged him, let Abraxas use him, in any and every way he wished. There was something so satisfying in knowing he was being used, and something even more gratifying in the fact Abraxas thought he was in control of the situation. Thought he was the only one doing the using. Tom let Abraxas touch parts he wouldn’t show other people, let him kiss and bite, and do all the filthy things he knew Abraxas loved to do to his toys. So, waking up in Abraxas’ bed was nothing new. Abraxas still here though, was.  
Normally, his friend left, abandoning him in favour of breakfast on the lawn or anything else rich people did. But now Abraxas had ignored whatever alarms he had set and was lying still asleep beside him, his arm wrapped around Tom’s waist.  
The house was quiet, it still being early enough that the only people awake were the house elves, doing whatever house elves did in big houses. A gentle light filtered through the translucent curtains casting a pink glow on the room. Tom smiled to himself, this was why he was sleeping with a Malfoy: for these quiet moments where he got to sleep in a soft bed, in a warm room, with a passably decent person who could be quite cosy to cling to when it was cold. For the money, that was the reason he would tell anyone else why he wasted his time here, lying in bed doing nothing in particular, because of money. More specifically because Abraxas was decadent, liked to show off his wealth. He liked to exhibit the world of money so blatantly and he liked to watch how Tom reacted, and, more importantly, he liked to indulge those he wanted to impress, and Tom was not above being spoiled, at least, not when it was so easy to achieve.  
Tom felt Abraxas stir, the latter rolled onto his back and rubbed his eyes, “what time is it?” he asked, yawning.  
“Just gone nine,” said Tom quietly. He didn’t move, letting Abraxas come to terms with where he was and who was with him, Abraxas had never been a morning person and usually didn’t function before coffee or champagne; the choice depended on what he’d been doing the night before.  
Slowly, Abraxas began to rouse himself, he rolled onto his side and looked at Tom. There was a gentleness in his gaze, the usual tenderness that made Abraxas so annoyingly likeable, a human in this rich unhappy world.  
“You look so pretty,” Abraxas said stroking a lock of hair behind Tom’s ear. His hand lingered for a second, hovering an inch from Tom’s face, as if he was uncertain, just for a minute whether Tom would allow him. Then Abraxas smiled lazily, fingers, no longer hesitant, caressed Tom’s face.  
He continued down Tom’s neck, his fingertips making Tom’s skin prickle as they traced his collarbone to his exposed shoulder. Abraxas rubbed the sleep from his eyes and let his fingers slip under the covers; they continued down Tom’s forearm before sliding onto his waist. He drew soft tickling circles.  
Tom rolled onto his back and let his breathing get a little heavier. Abraxas’ hand grazed his hip, sliding between his thighs. Tom parted his legs a fraction, it was so easy, so effortless to keep Abraxas interested. Languidly he turned his head to face Abraxas, “before breakfast?” he said, his breath hitching as Abraxas’ fingers slipped under his underwear.  
Abraxas paused, an idea apparently forming.  
He pulled away from Tom and pulled a cord beside the bed. A few minutes later there was a small knock at the door. Abraxas got up, and Tom took a moment to relax. He gazed towards Abraxas, now dressed in his favourite silk ‘lounging robe’ but Tom knew a dressing gown when he saw one. He was standing at the door talking to a house elf. When the insignificant little creature had left Abraxas smiled at him, reassuring, as if Tom was nervous. Tom was never nervous per se, but around Abraxas, he was cautious, never too comfortable. Abraxas’ eyes wandered easily, and Tom couldn’t have them landing on anyone else.  
When the house-elf returned it was carrying a silver tray covered with a silver lid. Tom rolled his eyes. Nothing in this house wasn’t worth a small fortune.  
Abraxas dismissed the house elf and returned to the bed. Despite it being summer there was a freshness in the air that chilled the room. Thus, Abraxas curled back under the covers, but he placed the tray between them. Tom turned his head to look. “What is it?”  
“Breakfast,” said Abraxas lifting the lid. Tom raised his brows and looked at Abraxas “that’s not a breakfast.”  
What lay between them was Abraxas’, and only Abraxas’, idea of breakfast. Perfect red strawberries dusted with icing sugar, set in a fine bone china bowl, next to it was another bowl. This one filled with melted chocolate.  
“Anything that breaks your fast is a breakfast,” Abraxas said surreptitiously. Tom tried not to look too bemused. Abraxas did not understand what normal people did, they were beneath his notice, unimportant blots in the world. Tom would hasten to agree with him but by all of society’s standards, he was classed amongst such insignificance, at least without Abraxas he was. So, Tom tried to smile, tried to accept that whatever Abraxas wanted for breakfast was what he wanted for breakfast.  
Ignoring the strawberries Abraxas’ hand returned to sliding down Tom’s chest and rested, palming circles on his underwear. Tom took long breaths and watched Abraxas with heavy half-lidded eyes.  
“Aren’t you going to eat those?” he said sucking his bottom lip and looking at Abraxas with those wide virgin eyes, the ones that made Tom sick and Abraxas dangerously distracted. They made him do wild, rash things that Tom very much enjoyed.  
Abraxas hummed more to himself than to Tom. He was working out the mechanics of what he wanted. Tom lay waiting, it was better to wait, to let Abraxas have as much control as he wanted, any that was left over would invariably be given to him.  
Abraxas’ hand slowly moved again, tracing up Tom’s hip and then slipping beneath his underwear. Tom understood.  
He slid his underwear down to his knees, and Abraxas wrapped a hand around his cock. His hand ghosted along the shaft, never enough to give Tom any satisfaction, but enough to make the air thick with arousal, enough to make Tom flush, his rosy blush blurring with the rose-gold glow of the mid-morning sun. Enough for Tom to close his eyes, a furrow forming at his forehead. Enough for his nails to scrape across the sheets and his mouth to feel so dry.  
He opened his eyes and glanced at Abraxas, who had his other hand smoothing back Tom’s hair, his fingers scratching Tom’s scalp, drawing little circles and pulling the strands as much as he dared.  
The same hand picked up a strawberry, shaking the powdered sugar from it before he dipped it into the bowl of thick melted chocolate and held it to Tom’s lips. “During breakfast more appropriate?” he said.  
Tom pouted, Abraxas’ hand momentarily stopped its incessant touching, and bit into the strawberry, letting the chocolate smear across his lips, and the juice drip down his chin. If this was what Abraxas wanted, Tom would indulge him. He let his tongue lick sensuously at his lips, slicking them until they shined. Abraxas picked another and repeated. This time Tom took the entire strawberry at once, lips hot and wet against Abraxas’ fingers, leaving streaks of chocolate. Abraxas swallowed, and Tom smiled to himself. Abraxas was easy to please. It was almost too easy to get him flushed and confused, words in disarray. Tom liked Abraxas tongue-tied when his money couldn’t help him.  
Abraxas continued to offer ‘breakfast’. Tom sucked the fruit, making obscene little noises that had Abraxas’ squirming, he licked and bit into it, staining his teeth red until his lips were sticky and his throat burned from the intense sweetness. He looked at Abraxas, admiring the way he chewed on his lip.  
Slowly Abraxas leaned forward and kissed him, licking the chocolate from his lips. He tasted fresh after the tooth-rotting sweetness of too much sugar. Tom didn’t mind kissing, especially not Abraxas. It was easy, he just had to lie there while Abraxas did most of the work. He did most of the work with his hands too. They were soft hands, hands that had never done anything for themselves. Beautiful hands, caressing him a little too gently, making him wait, hover in the warm sweetness of the morning. Made him close his eyes and only open them when Abraxas passed him another strawberry. On their own, they were sweet, juicy, crisp on his tongue. He closed his eyes again and chewed the fruit slowly, when he swallowed it was appalling, and sure to remind Abraxas of everything he liked Tom to do late at night, or whenever Abraxas wanted him to.  
Abraxas slid his hand across his thigh and Tom let himself whine softly. He dropped his head back and rocked his hips. The pleasant warmth that had soothed him now felt too hot. Under Abraxas’ gentle caresses he felt a flush creep up his neck and blossom across his cheeks.  
He’d practised his expressions in the mirror, he knew exactly what he looked like. Neck open, face relaxed, lips moving, saying things Abraxas couldn’t hear, one hand splayed just above his head, fingers curling in his own hair. The picture of need, desire, lust, like a virginal angel, just waiting for someone to corrupt him.  
Abraxas rubbed him slowly, taking his time, soft, smooth palm rubbing back and forth, making Tom clench his jaw and scrunch his toes. Abraxas was good at that, drawing it out, making Tom be nice to him for longer than he wanted. He felt he words become clogged in his throat. Hands so slow. His whole body prickling. Tongue dry. Every limb felt heavy, too heavy to move and still, Abraxas was so slow. Fingers pressed against his hips, against his thighs, against everything except what Tom wanted. Abraxas loved to tease, to wait until he could almost hear Tom’s heart pounding, the blood in his veins smouldering, making everything so hot. Tom gave him what he wanted, an aching body fractured by an irrepressible need, and Abraxas believed it.  
Tom trailed his own hand down to Abraxas’ soft one. Abraxas had a taste for watching, a desire he was never able to sate, however much he gorged himself on Tom. Gently Tom wrapped his own hand around Abraxas’ and dragged their hands firmly along his cock, moaning loudly as Abraxas scraped his thumb across the head. He arched his back in the way Abraxas loved, groaning at his own gratification in the way Abraxas found irresistible. Abraxas liked people to be loud, forever singing his praises, crying out his name. Tom liked to be quiet; ragged breath and a beating heart his only companion. But if Abraxas liked his lovers to be whining desperate bodies, then he would, he would moan and groan and gasp and whimper.  
Abraxas stared, mesmerised; he looked so lost, so needy and desperate and so very out of his depth. It felt so good to know how much Abraxas wanted him, and how much he would do, how much he would give up in order to have him.  
When Tom came he let his voice crack and his body shudder; he let himself have a short moment to himself. Abraxas sat, watching like he couldn’t believe what he’d just done like he couldn’t believe Tom had let him. Slowly the look changed to one of understanding, of power. That look was intoxicating, it made Abraxas look like he was in control and Abraxas needed to feel like this was all about him.  
Tom lay for a while, staring at the ceiling, feeling Abraxas’ burning gaze scrutinising every inch of him. He turned to face him. Abraxas still looked nice in this light, although not as composed as he would like to appear.  
“Will you allow me to repay the favour,” Tom said, rolling over to straddle Abraxas. He smiled at Abraxas’ flustered face, with that special smile he saved specifically for Abraxas. With one hand he steadied himself, with the other he lifted a strawberry.


End file.
